


I Can See Your Halo

by Saint_Rick_The_Dick



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, General
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 13:24:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13008723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saint_Rick_The_Dick/pseuds/Saint_Rick_The_Dick
Summary: Rick doesn't like to feel things. Gender neutral reader.





	I Can See Your Halo

"What are you looking for?”

You sat at the tiny table in your kitchen, watching as Rick, shirtless, rifled through your cabinets in search of food. He wasn’t drunk, but was edging the line between sobriety and inebriation, that in-between state which all functioning alcoholics struggled to maintain. 

“Don’t you have any - any  _cookies_  or anything?  _Christ,_  I-I-I need to start keeping snacks here.”

You motioned with one hand, the other engaged in propping up your chin.

“Third cupboard from the left, next to the fridge.”

He made a small sound of victory once he’d located his quarry before proceeding to stuff entire wafers into his mouth two at at time.

Rick had shown up unannounced via portal and fucked you up against the wall in your living room. This in itself wasn’t unusual. His reluctance to leave afterwards, however, was your current cause for confusion.

You understood him better than he would admit - you couldn’t spend 4 months sleeping with someone without learning  _something_  - and so you chose your next words carefully, knowing if you weren’t judicious he would spook and flee like a wild buck.

“What did Jerry do this time?”

Rick stopped chewing to narrow his eyes. For a moment, you thought he would deny your concern, but then he swallowed, sighed, and answered.

“It - it wasn’t just  _Jerry_. It was  _Beth_ , too.”

You had never met any member of Rick’s family, and you preferred it that way. Beth was close enough to you in age to make your arrangement with her father awkward, and you wished to avoid any potential overtures about whatever future you and Rick may or may not have together. For now, he was just a good time and that was enough for you. However, Rick did mention everyone often enough that you knew his son-in-law was a constant thorn in the side.

Leaning back in your chair, you crossed your legs, waiting to see if he would continue. When he didn’t, you kept prodding.

“Well? What happened?”

Rick snorted, tossing the now empty box onto the counter.

"I -I-I don’t think they know how much I do - I did - I  _still_  do for this family and - and Morty, in particular. And - and  _maaaaybe_  if they weren’t just a pair of  _dipshits_  concerned with being testaments to  _mediocrity_ they’d be able to - to  _recognize_  this instead of trying to shove me under a rug like - like some kind of ugly  _stain_  they want to pretend doesn’t exist.”

He paused, crossing his arms over his scrawny chest.

“They want to put me in a fucking old folk’s home.”

The absurdity of the suggestion struck you as hilarious and you burst into laughter.

“You would burn the place down! Or blow it up or…  _God,_  I don’t even know, but it would be a disaster.”

Rick chuckled despite himself. 

“Y-you’re not  _wrong_. But, I wouldn’t go anyway. I-I’d just leave. Again.”

He fell silent, having drawn inward, lost in the cosmos of his own mind. Rick was a genius and you knew it. You had seen him in action enough times to never doubt him or what he was capable of. His brain was a machine - always moving, always calculating, storing data for later use or discarding information he deemed unnecessary. 

But even someone as smart as him could have moments of profound stupidity.

You stood and crossed the distance between you. Placing your hands on his arms, you separated them, opening him up, making room. He watched you, his eyes focused on your face, his mouth drawn downwards in suspicion.

You looked up. 

“Don’t freak out, ok?”

And then you hugged him, wrapping your arms around his middle, pressing your cheek to the warm skin of his bony chest. You could tell his initial instinct was to pull away or push you off, but he did neither. Instead, he relented, melting into your touch, his own long arms encircling you and holding you tightly against him.  

He sighed - a deep motion that made his whole body shudder - and you felt him place his chin on the top of your head as you listened to his heartbeat. It had a steady, grounding rhythm which reminded you of his fragility, his mortality. 

Because for all his intelligence, his bravado and charm, his cockiness, his quick temper, his unbridled confidence - Rick was still just a man. A sad, lonely, old man seeking a connection in the only way he deemed safe.

You stepped back and took him by the hand, leading him towards your living room and the comfort of your worn couch.

“C'mon. Let’s go see what’s on TV. I think I might even half a bottle of whiskey stashed somewhere.”

Rick at least had the decency to look bashful.

“Uuhh. No, you don’t. I-I drank that last week.”

You just smiled and shook your head.

“ _Of course_  you did.”


End file.
